


Emergence

by crossedlines



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 03:47:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3595167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossedlines/pseuds/crossedlines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the moments immediately following Lysa's death, an alliance is formed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emergence

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Petyr/Sansa Week on tumblr.
> 
> Just a short little fic, set immediately after Lysa’s death in “Mockingbird”. I haven’t read the books, so I’m just playing with what I see (and hope to see) on screen.

Lysa’s screams had faded, yet Sansa remained crumpled on the stone floor, her insides clenched in fear.

Littlefinger turned away from the open Moon Door, the rush of his most honest act still evident on his face. His gaze found hers, and his expression softened slightly.

"It had to be done, Sansa,” he rasped, pulling himself back from the high of the cruelty he had just inflicted. “She was dangerous, unstable – a threat.”

Sansa’s body loosened at these words, and she released the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. As horrifying as the moment had been, she understood the weight of the act. It was not the threat to Petyr’s grand plan that concerned him; it was the threat to her. She was no stranger to brutality, but this was different. This was brutality in service of her cause. She surprised herself at how quickly she accepted this gift.

“I know.” Sansa whispered, her eyes unblinking.

Petyr closed the distance between them, offering her his hand. As she shifted her gaze to his open palm, her thoughts shifted as well, to King’s Landing. She had survived that lion’s den through deference, forced smiles, down-turned eyes. In the capital she was a pawn, moved by the whims or mercies of much larger players. Here, she was still not safe, but Petyr’s kiss had indicated that she may no longer be powerless. That kiss was a key she was only beginning to understand how to use. There was something here in Eyrie, something small, but something Sansa could grab hold of.

She raised her eyes to his. He betrayed his need there, his longing. This was not mere lust, though; not at this moment. What he needed was for her to join him. For the first time in her life, Sansa held sway over another.

Slipping her hand into his, she stood. Satisfaction coloured by relief flashed over Petyr’s face, and a smile spread from his mouth to his grey-blue eyes. “I’m going to make you a queen,” he growled, pulling her to him.

A small smile played at the corner of Sansa’s mouth.

“I know.”


End file.
